A Lesson to All Bridesmaids
by boot-stealer
Summary: Willabeth. M-rated. When Elizabeth returns home from her bachelorette party with a swollen hand, her fiance wonders exactly what he has gotten himself into. Modern one-shot challenge.


_**A Lesson to All Bridesmaids**_

**Author: boot-stealer**

**Summary: **One-shot to answer a good friend's challenge. When Elizabeth returns home early from her own bachelorette party with a swollen hand, her fiance wonders exactly what he got himself into. M-Rated, so please do not read further if you are sensitive to sexual situations.

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot, but not the characters. I might not even own the plot. My good friend, this is for you. And you know who you are. Too bad you didn't sock the bitch in the neck, eh?

* * *

The typewriter was there in front of him. It was daunting, large, looming. The keys laughed at him, staring up at him challengingly, as if daring him to just press them, daring him to finally put something down.

The paper was blank and tauntingly white. His fingers ached and he looked to the side at the trash bin. It was filled to the brim or crinkled up paper, some of it overflowing to the side.

William Turner pushed his fingers through his unruly dark hair. The tension in his back was very palpable at this movement. The muscles and tendons stretched terribly and he almost heard the creak of them, like the tin man who needs a bit of oiling.

His wedding was in nine days and he still lacked vows to say to his fiancé when they stood before the altar. Granted, it was nine days. But he had a history of worrying. What if he did this in front of the typewriter every single night…and never got anywhere? As he hadn't tonight.

What if he stood before his beloved and she spewed the most beautiful words he had ever heard and he said absolutely nothing? She would hate him. She would kill him! That's what she would do! "Why did you embarrass me in front of all of those people?" she would scream later!

And their wedding night would be absolute shit!!

As his mind went wild, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes staring out the window, his fingers moved to the keys and started typing. The loud repetitive clicks reverberated through the room until the startling ding of the typewriter moving to the next line sounded. His eyes lost their worried cloudiness as he looked down at the page. Two lines of absolute crap…again.

He let out a frustrated growl and grabbed at the paper, tugging it from the typewriter and crinkling it into a ball. He held it in his fist and looked down at it. Will wanted to cry in his annoyance. Nothing was coming.

This was the woman he loved and cherished more than life itself and he couldn't put this down on paper? _What the hell is wrong with me? _He set his fingers to the keys again and wrote:

"You are the woman I love and cherish more than life itself."

He stared at it, then shook his head. "Crap. Utter crap," he muttered.

Starting over, he began typing again, but was almost startled from his seat by the sound of the apartment door slamming.

He turned, his brow furrowed, his fingers still poised over the keys. "Elizabeth?"

There was no answer, so he stood, walking into the entry way and stopping when he saw his fiancée standing at the door, scarf thrown about her neck, coat hanging limply, her hair damp and messy, and her face in the ugliest scowl he had ever seen from her.

Of course, that being said, it was also the most beautiful scowl of any other person's.

Will said nothing. He just looked at her from the doorway, his stance open, ready for whatever rant she was about to spew.

"I…hate…bachelorette…parties," she growled out slowly. Again, he said nothing. He knew she had just come from the bachelorette party her maid of honor planned for her. Of course, Elizabeth didn't slip on any of the details, like where they were going, what they were doing. But he made her promise him they weren't going to Chippendale's or anything else with beefy dancing men in thongs.

She promised quite easily, claiming that those men were homosexual anyway and there was nothing Will had to worry about in that department unless he himself went there. This was one thing Elizabeth was positively irked with about her fiancé. He was a magnet for both sexes and despite her being absolutely positive of his straightness, she still blanched when a fellow appreciatively glanced Will's way in a bar.

"Erin-bleeding-Masters, the stupid whore…." She said, her jaw clenched tightly, her eyes blazing.

"The girl your father—"

"Yes! She…I'm done! I'm just done, Will!"

"What happened?" He walked to her and took the scarf from around her neck and hung it next to the door on the coat hanger. As he peered down at her with slight amusement at her fussing, he unbuttoned her trench coat and began pushing it from her shoulders.

"I hit the shit out of her! _That's_ what bloody happened!!!"

Will's eyes widened significantly, his mouth opening to ask why. Unfortunately no sound came from him as he just stared.

"I am _so _tired of her not listening to me! I am the bride! This is _my_ wedding! I will wear the goddamn white dress and my bridesmaids will wear black, damn it! I have it all planned out, and she says 'Oh my dress is red, is that ok?' No! NO, IT'S NOT BLOODY OK! I want black! Black!" Her eyes were misty in her frustration and her voice raised a good octave.

"Couldn't you have just told her you want black instead of hitting her, love?" Will asked in his soft, don't-piss-her-off tone he used sometimes when he knew she was on edge…like now. "I mean, I know you're upset…but really…"

"That isn't why I hit her!" She snapped. "Well, I mean…that's one reason. But she was so much worse as the night went on! She took two of my bridesmaids and got them so drunk they were nearly pulled off in cars by random men!"

Will made a face, cringing slightly at the screech of her voice, his hand scratching the back of his neck. "Well, Elizabeth, they shouldn't really have—"

"And she was making terribly rude remarks about my father being born into money whilst hers…" She changed her voice to be nasaly and made a face. "…had to work his way into fortune. Oh who gives a fuck what her father does! My father is a good man!" She roared.

"He's a wonderful man, my love, but—"

"Will!"

"What?"

"It's listen time!"

"Yes, dear." He blushed slightly and shrugged sheepishly.

"I spent six months of my life planning this wedding, goddamnit! Six months of toil, six months of work, six damn months of busy…busy…" Her eyes roved around, searching for words. "…busy shit!"

"Busy shit?" His eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Will, don't mock me! I'm very upset!" She kicked her heels off her feet and shrunk three inches to her usual five feet and seven inches. Her lip quivered as she reached up to cover her eyes with her hand.

This more than anything persuaded her fiancé that she truly was upset. "Elizabeth…" He hurried to gather her in his arms. "What happened? Is everyone alright?" She didn't answer, burying her face in his shirt. Trying to lighten her mood, he nudged her face with his shoulder gently. "I mean, except for Erin. You've got a mean right hook."

One light brown eye peaked up at him, her eyebrow raised. "Will."

"Sorry."

Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, her eyes drifting shut as she felt him willingly pull her tightly against him. "She just wants to ruin everything!"

"Did you try talking to her before hitting her in the face, love?" When her eyes flashed up at him dangerously, he held his hands up in defense. "I'm not being the devil's advocate here. I'm just asking."

She rolled her pretty long lashed eyes. "Are you kidding me?! She did enough talking for the both of us, the stupid bitch! She's got the hugest mouth I have possibly _ever_ seen!"

"What'd she say?"

Her shoulders slumped and she suddenly just seemed tired and upset. She wiped her face wearily and shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it." The truth was, she would sooner spill her guts to anyone but Will. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, for in every other case, she turned to him first. But Erin's biting remarks had been directed towards Will, and that, more than anything, embarrassed her beyond anything.

"That's fine. Just come sit down and I can make you some tea." His strong, but incredibly gentle hands brushed against her cheeks, like the touch of a feather. Her eyelids drooped with the feeling and she felt her fists ball against her sides as his lips brushed hers only momentarily.

When she opened her eyes, she saw his dark brown gaze peering down at her in slightly amused question, as if he wondered why she wasn't moving.

"Will, she talked about you." The young soon-to-be bride didn't know what it was that made her tell her man what she had meant to keep from him. Maybe she just couldn't keep it inside. But then again, she had expected Will to continue his questioning, to push her for further information. But he just let her be _and_ offered to get her tea.

Elizabeth remembered back when she and Will began dating. Her best friend, after meeting him, comically asked whether he was real or not. When the enamored young woman promised he was, indeed, real, her friend continued by asking if she found him in a catalogue.

It was true. He was perfect, with small, but beautiful imperfections. He had small inflections, habits, and annoying mannerisms, as any human being did. She found this out first hand when they moved in together, after he proposed.

For instance, when she was cooking, it took only a millisecond for a strong, sneaky hand to cross in front of her and grab a strawberry, an olive; for a finger to move in unexpectedly and swipe at the gravy or dip.

And he was a hapless dork.

In public, when a song came on he knew or enjoyed, he managed to work up the nerve to not only sing it, but clumsily bob about in what _he_ called dancing. She would never outwardly admit that this small mannerism of his was just as endearing as it was embarrassing.

One thing she was sure she would never truly get used to was his ability to be completely calm, logical, and comfortable in any situation, while she let her temper and stubbornness get the best of her more than half of the time. He made her feel like some temperamental witch sometimes.

She knew what people must say. _Oh, he must be an absolute saint! What does he see in her? She has him wrapped around her finger, that's what!_

That was what irked her the most. Will most definitely was _not_ wrapped around her finger in any way. Of course she knew how much he loved her. He told her numerous times, his eyes shining in an endearing sincerity, "I would die for you." And she believed every word.

In fact, she was wrapped around _his_ finger, more often than him around hers. His touch, his tone of voice, his lips—those damnable rich eyes of his were like goddamn golden torches of fire—but he could make her do anything. Albeit, he would never know, for she would _never_ tell him.

"About me?" He tilted his head, evidently confused as to why some random woman Swann made Elizabeth elect as one of her three bridesmaids would say anything about her.

She ducked her head, biting her lip. "Yes." Her eyes dropped to her fist. She almost gasped. It was swelling quickly and the knuckles were purpling already. _Shit!_ If Will saw, he would be even more annoyed at her hitting Erin. Subtly, she inched her injury behind her back.

"She—She just got so drunk and she spewed these lies about seeing you places like clubs and dance joints, buying this girl a drink…dancing with that girl…too closely for you to be thinking of me." Elizabeth wasn't surprised when he didn't comment. Of course, he was keeping a cool head, waiting for her to finish. Of course, he wouldn't fly off the handle and defend himself. He knew he didn't have to. Elizabeth knew beyond a doubt that he was faithful. They just understood—without having discussed anything—that there was no man or woman who would ever entice their hearts from each other.

"Of course no one that matters really believed her, but other people who were there starting sending me these pity looks. I knew they thought me marrying a man who is unfaithful, a brute, a cheater. And it just pissed me off! No matter where I turned, I saw her ugly face…bloody…ugh, I dunno…SPEWING!" Her eyes blazed.

His hand reached forward and lightly took her right arm, intending to pull her to him, but she pulled her arm back, her eyes opening widely. He couldn't see her injury. But the confused look on his face made guilt flood through her, so she continued her tirade, pretending to be in the heat of the moment.

"Is that why you hit her?"

"No!"

"When did you hit her?"

Stepping into him, she dropped her head on his chest lazily, her hands tucked at her sides, her pained fist hid away from his observant eyes. "She…" Elizabeth sighed, her voice low as she continued, "…she went and started making lewd, disgusting remarks about you."

"Like what?"

Her eyes shot up to eye him warily.

"Just curious!" He defended quickly, his eyes wide as his shoulders rose and dropped in a shrug.

"She thinks you're well fit. And she just…talked about it…and about things that only _I'm _allowed to talk about, thank you _very_ much!" She snapped, looking off to the side, her eyes narrowed in a glare as she gritted her teeth.

"Ah…so you reacted out of jealousy and gave her a good one on the jaw?"

"I chopped her in her fucking neck—wait, jealous? Excuse me! No, I wasn't jealous…I just didn't want people thinking…" She blushed. "Not jealous."

"I'm flattered, love, really!"

"Shut up, Will. I'm not jealous. What is there to be jealous of? Honestly, though!"

"I don't know, Lizzie. I don't know her as well as you—"

"She's got fake boobs, fake lips, bleached hair, white-arse see-through skin, you know like the kind where you can see her veins…gross…and long, pasted on pink nails. I hope she breaks them, picking her fake crooked teeth!" The young woman barked.

"She sounds like one of those ugly wenches on _Footballer's Wives_," Will laughed.

"She is!" She peaked up at Will's amused eyes. _You might as well admit it_, her conscience admonished. "Fine, yes I was bloody jealous. Not because I thought she was better than me in any way, but…I don't like people saying things like that about you."

"Because I belong to you," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Right, because you belong—" Her eyes shot up to his, her words dying down. "You belong to me, did you say?"

"Mhm."

"You're adorable," she gushed. He reached down and pulled her arm up by her hand.

"And you're—"

"OUCH!" She yelped before she had a chance to think.

Immediately, Will's eyes lost all humor and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand up in front of his face gently. "Elizabeth Swann, how hard did you hit her? My God, your knuckles are black and blue! Jesus!"

"I told you, I hit her neck!"

"Fucking insane neck, she must have!"

"…I know," she said lamely as she watched him inspect her swollen hand.

"Go sit down," he said, turning to go into the kitchen.

"Where are you going?"

"Just listen to me, for _once_, woman," he chuckled, pointing at the couch as he left the room. Giving the empty space where he once stood a dull, not-amused look, she turned and plopped down on the couch.

Just a few seconds later, he knelt down beside her. "Give me your pretty little hand, my love."

"Why?" She bit her lip playfully.

"Liz…give it."

Rolling her eyes, she thrust her hand out. He took it very gently and lifted a pack of frozen peas up, setting it on her injury. She winced, then looked at the peas, then back to Will, then at the peas again.

"Peas? William Turner, why on earth do you have peas?"

"Why not?" He laughed. She just stared at him, so he shrugged. "I was thinking about making them with a steak tonight for dinner while you were gone, but then I realized steak, potatoes and peas aren't really a great one-person meal. I mean, this is a lot of peas. I should save this is for a serving of two…"

Elizabeth watched him, her head mutely shaking in awe, her eyes cloudy and slightly damp.

"Thus, I decided, after much deliberation on my part, to save them for a night when a two-person meal is necessar—"

He could have gone on.

Yes, he could have…if Elizabeth had not madly thrown herself at him, her lips crashing against his, her arms flung about his neck, her legs straddling his waist. With his eyes open in shock, he tried to push her off.

As he finally managed to wedge his hands in between their bodies, he separated himself from her and stared, his lips clamoring to make some sort of noise. "Elizabeth…what the hell was_ that_ for?"

"Peas."

Her answer was so simple, Will almost accepted it. But then he realized…'peas' wasn't really an answer. "Peas?" He questioned.

"Yes. Peas. You just gave me a bag of frozen peas. As if…you bought them to cook them."

"I _did_ buy them to cook them, love. What is wrong with your brain right now? Seriously. I didn't go down to the market, see frozen peas, and think to myself 'Oh, now I am going to need that just in case Elizabeth punches her bridesmaid in the face—"

"Neck."

Shaking his head, Will continued. "Doesn't matter. I bought the peas to cook them, Elizabeth. That's usually what people do. Is that why I was attacked? Because I cook?"

"I guess…"

"Because I should cook more often, if that's the case."

Elizabeth smirked as he crossed his arms. "Oh, really?"

"Really."

She sidled up to him and brushed his dark curls from his eyes. Leaning up, she brushed her lips softly against his. The anger she felt when she entered her apartment was very much palpable at the time; it seethed through her veins and made her heart throb painfully.

And now the only tense or painful feelings stemmed from her bruised hand. She felt his hands gently lay against the small of her back, and as if like magic, chills shot through her muscles, easing the stress.

"Elizabeth…" He breathed.

"Hm."

"You only have two bridesmaids left."

"Shit!"

Will jumped back. "What?!"

"My father is going to kill me! Erin is the daughter of Corporal Harold Masters, the most important man in my father's business. I knocked his daughter on her arse! My father will hear of it through the corporal and then I'm dead." She raised a hand to her forehead and groaned.

"Well, first of all, I didn't come this far and do all of this wedding planning with you, only to have you murdered a week before our vows. So no, Lizzie, your father will _not_ kill you, because I won't let him." She smiled at that. "And second, I should like to remind your father that you were against this whole Erin-bridesmaid thing from the beginning."

"That _is _true."

"Indeed." He paused. "Just one thing. Obviously, you've gotten rid of one of your bridesmaids. And I haven't punched _in the neck_…" Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "…any of my groomsmen. So we're uneven. Three to two."

"Oh God! Who can I get in a week?! They need a dress! And they need the agenda! I can ask Deborah!" She bit her lip, calculated now. "But no! She will wonder why I didn't ask her in the first place and then there will be this rift between us."

Will just stared at her, his brow furrowed in awe.

"What?" She shrugged.

"I wonder if men ever understand the woman mind, even after marriage…" A feminine hand smacked across his shoulder as he laughed, cowering backwards. "Really, though! If it's that much of a problem, I'll get one of Jack's barmaids!"

"Shut up!"

They both laughed. Will reached forward as Elizabeth continued her laughter and took her hand gently. As she sobered up, she peered up at him and smiled. "You sure you don't want me to get you anything? Some coffee? Tea? Peas?" He lifted the peas up in front of her. "You want me to cook these for ya?"

"Ha ha," she said, rolling her eyes. "No…no thank you, Will. I'm afraid I don't have an appetite for anything really."

He pulled her close and leant his head down to kiss her neck softly, his hands splaying on her back as he hugged her tightly, his lips running along her skin. "Not anything?" He whispered.

Immediately understanding his meaning, her face dissolved into slightly sprite-like, dreamy features. "Are you insinuating what I think you're insinuating?"

Dark eyes met lighter eyes. "If that's what you need."

"I do."

"Then—"

"But you aren't just doing this to make me feel better, are you?"

"No."

"Because if you are, that will just piss me off."

"I'm not!"

"Really?"

He leant forward and kissed her solidly. "Really."

Her hand reached out to lightly graze his neck, her lips softly touching his. Her pointer finger dragged down his throat, passed his collar bone and to his chest peaking out from his button up shirt. That finger met with her thumb and immediately unbuttoned his first button, then moved slowly down to his second button, and continued all the way down.

But to his surprise, her fingers continued to lower, latching onto the ties that held his sleeping trousers to his waist. Teasing him by pulling languidly on the tie, her other hand eased into his shirt, rounding his torso, feeling him inhale against her lips.

She giggled as she swung her leg over to his other side, straddling him.

Dragging his lips to her throat, he lowered his hand to her knee and pulled the dress up her thigh, his rough fingers creating a pattern on her soft skin. His name drifted from her lips as his other hand brushed her hair back from her cheek.

She reached up and put her hand beneath Will's neck and pulled him closer to her for a deep kiss, one that was powerful enough to draw a low moan from his throat. As she pushed him back down, her hand was smashed between his neck and the cushions. She winced and pulled away, tearing her hand out from beneath him.

"Sorry!" He breathed, reaching up to take her hand softly. She just shook her head and kissed him some more, but gasped as she felt him turn and pin her against the back cushion, his hand holding hers up above them, safely out of the way.

The sentiment was not lost on the young almost-bride, so she grinned against his kiss and did what she knew best, seducing her fiancé. Lowering her free hand again, she pushed his shirt up and grazed his torso with her neatly feminine nails. He moved again so that she was pressed down against the couch, his body over hers. His other hand grabbed hers from his chest and pulled it up to where he held it, above her head much like the other one.

"You should probably be icing that hand," Will whispered against her lips, before moving to kiss her cheek languidly. As he spoke, his hips jerked against hers, eliciting a chill through both of their bodies, causing Elizabeth to gasp against his hair.

"If you pull away from me now, I swear I will sick Erin on you," she mumbled, amusement in her heady voice. He chuckled.

"I'll just sock her in the bloody neck."

Laughing, she pulled her hands from his and ignored the pain, groping down his shoulders, down his arms, to his hips, pulling his sleeping trousers down an inch or two, revealing the smooth, sensitive area just above his manhood. Her fingers brushed against him lightly, causing his hips to jerk again.

She felt his teeth graze against her neck as she bit her lip and threw her head back, her other hand sneaking beneath the hem of his pants and touching his backside. Once again, he felt the involuntary jerk of his hips. Both of his hands worked on pushing the dress she wore up from her thighs and to her stomach. Silky, red underwear lie beneath his fingers. His lips upturned against her neck before he pulled back to look down at her undergarment.

"Any reason why you opted for the red silk?" Will raised an eyebrow.

"Well, whatever happened tonight, I wanted to feel sexy," she retorted in mirth, giggling when he feigned shock.

"Did I have anything to do with it at all?"

"I don't know. Was it effective?"

"Entirely."

"Then you had _everything_ to do with it," Elizabeth replied, her hands unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and pulling it off of him, tossing it over the back of the couch and kissing him again as she felt his hands rub up her stomach and back down her thighs.

Frankly, as much as she enjoyed making out with Will, she was in the mood for something else, so she told him so by arching her hips to push against his now solid member. He gasped, pulling his lips from hers and staring down at her. The message was certainly understood, she thought smilingly to herself, for his fingers curled around the waistband of her underwear and he slowly began pulling them down her long, thin legs.

She pushed him gently to the side of her as she reached down to pull them the rest of the way off, dropping them carelessly to the wood floors beside the couch, allowing Will to drag her dress up and over her head, draping it over the back of the couch so as not to sully it. He rather loved her in that dress.

It was a beautiful dark blue dress, pleated sleeves going from her shoulders to just above her elbows, the loose, lovely skirt dropping to just above her knees gracefully. A wide belt held it to her lithe waist. But it was just like her. It was part leather, part velvet. Part bad-ass London girl, part daddy's innocent London girl.

The length of the dress was alluring to any man who gazed upon her, if her gorgeous features didn't do it right off the back, that is. But the sleeves left much to the imagination, as well as the cut at her neck. Nothing showed from her knees upward besides her elbows to the tips of her fingers and her face. Her long, honey locks were now made darker by the rain that dampened them along her trek from the taxi to the front door of their apartment building. This dress seemed to signify (especially on this particular night) that she belonged to someone, to him, but that didn't make her any less of a woman, any less herself.

But now the dress was gone, draped over the back of the couch, and she lay beautifully bare beneath him.

She moved her hands down to pull his trousers from him as well. He allowed it, kicking them off the rest of the way and weaving his arms beneath her smooth, lower back. "Will," she breathed, latching her lips to the sprinkling of freckles just below his collar bone.

He was silent, maneuvering over her body and opening his eyes, his curls dropping passed his ears where she had tucked them prior to this moment. She reached up and cupped his cheeks in her hands. "I want to tell you something before we do this," she said softly, almost in a whisper.

He smiled softly, a signal for her to continue. So she did.

"I feel like such an overactive, jealous bitch for hitting Erin. I know she definitely deserved it, but I feel like I should have been the better person and let bygones be bygones." She paused, looking up at him as he watched her, a smile all-the-more present on his handsome lips.

"Well, we'll get you a better bridesmaid. And she'll mold into the whole thing quickly. She will have a black dress, not a red one. And our wedding will be everything you planned."

With a bright, winning smile up at him, she nodded and let her hands pull him down to a deep, satisfying kiss. He lowered his weight on her, warming her instantly. She felt him press against her hips and she moaned deep within her chest.

Soon he was sheathed inside of her and they both opened their mouths in gasps, their eyes shooting open to gaze at the other, sharing breath. He pursed his lips and kissed her bottom lip, as she was still enveloped in the feelings of him pushing himself deep within her.

She muttered an incomprehensible word of satisfaction against his chin and nudged him with her hips, before lifting one leg and wrapping it around his calf. The other leg bent beside their bodies as he began to move against her. She breathed out in a slight moan and shut her eyes tightly, turning her lips to kiss behind his ear as she followed his lead in their love making.

His hands worked magic against her skin, one arm tightly encircling her waist to keep her against him, the other hand kneading her upright thigh as it pushed against his torso.

At one particular moment in the tryst, she felt his lips latch onto her shoulder. Her eyes shot open and her hands sprung to his hair, clinging greedily at the supple dark waves.

Their pace increased after awhile, lending all control to their passion. If there was one thing Elizabeth could positively say about her fiancé, it was that he was a master in bed. She had partners before him, but never would she have one after him. He more than surpassed them in technique, definitely in skill. And (she almost laughed at the irony of blushing in this moment of passion) he definitely was one of those intimate partners that wouldn't deny her any strange sexual request.

In fact, there was one such instance, directly after a particularly gruesome argument over something silly, in which their make up consisted of partial clothing and their kitchen cupboards. It was directly after that impromptu assignation that Will insisted upon oiling the cupboard doors.

She was never left unsatisfied, in both the physical sense and the emotional sense. The emotional sense was probably more important in the long run, but at this point in time, as they grappled at each other's bodies, moving in rhythm against the couch cushions, her emotions were far from her mind.

Her hands dragged from his scalp down to the small of his back, where she squeezed tightly with each movement of his she harmonized.

Her name exploded from his lips as he met the pinnacle of his passion, allowing her to follow quickly, a few more thrusts putting them in that region in which they loved to lay together and stare into each other's eyes.

He held her close, her body pressed between his weight the couch. Her eyes drifted shut in pure ecstasy as her hands rounded his torso lovingly, their breathing slowing together, their noses brushing.

"I love you, Lizzie."

Her eyes opened and met his. "I love _you_."

With a smile, he kissed her chin and dropped his head beside hers, spent. "In a week, we'll be married."

"Fuck the documentation," she whispered, her voice far passed gone. "We're already married to me."

Will brushed her hair back from her eyes and sighed, suddenly feeling the tug of his heartstrings inside of his ribcage. This feeling of their bodies pressed together, their hearts only a few thin layers of skin apart, beating together, their arms entwined, their eyes meeting, made him feel complete. She was his and he was hers. There was no doubt in his mind this was forever. She was stubborn, temperamental, and often times, easy to be perturbed with, but this didn't stop the burning passion, the wholesome love, that erupted from him in her presence.

They were each other's balance, and as long as either of them lived (and most likely beyond even life) they would love one another, and they would be together.

That was how it was.

Besides, how could a man like Will Turner deny himself the fiery spirit of a woman who socked another woman in the neck at her bachelorette party?

Not bloody likely!

* * *

(A/N:) This wasn't quite as raunchy as the last one, but I felt it was unnecessary to be that...detailed. I wanted their love to come through rather than just pure lust. I wrote this for a few particular people, one especially who (even though it was thereafter cleared up) experienced a similar situation, without the socking in the neck.

I hope you like it, special person!!!!

And for everyone else, I hope you all liked it as well!

**boot-stealer**


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